


042217

by ellaraeraerae



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 19:53:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10703979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellaraeraerae/pseuds/ellaraeraerae
Summary: Part 2, picking up where part one left off.I've been slow to work/post cause PTSD is fun, and writing about it is even more fun! (that's sarcastic)





	042217

I have no idea how long I sat there. Foster propped me up, against a nearby building, and while I knew I should do something, my limbs felt like they had been filled with lead. I wasn’t going anywhere.   
Somewhere deep in me, I knew I could move if I wanted to, but in the haze, or ice, or whatever this was, I couldn’t break free. I could save myself.   
Eventually, Foster picked me up, hauling me over a shoulder, and putting me in the front seat of my car. That was the extent of my ability to process information. He parked the car in the garage, and pulled me out of the car, and hauled me into the house.   
I wanted to comment that he wasn’t being gentle, but I couldn’t find a way to make the words come out. Frozen. I was frozen in my own mind.   
I let the numbness take over. 

Murmurs woke me. Something happened. Was it last night? Last week? Last year? I wasn’t really sure how long I’d stopped functioning for. I just knew I was at home, and fully clothed. I had my favorite blanket on me, the minky fabric so soft. I never let anyone touch my blanket.   
I finally cracked my eyes open to see the great room. It wasn’t anything special, but it was good I was definitely in my own house.   
I started to move from my position, horizontal on the couch, by stretching. Everything ached. How did everything ache? What has been going on? Or was this just the result of sleeping excessively?  
Once they realized I was awake, the murmurs stopped. I heard the housemates bid goodbye, and Foster came over to me. He saw me struggle to pull myself upright and helped me set myself upright. He sat next to me. Maybe he doesn’t want to see me fall over. That’s amazingly considerate of him.   
He started, “So…”   
It was going to be one of those conversations. Awesome. I love these conversations where nobody knows what to say and nobody wants to hear.   
“How long was I out?” I figured I’d get the information I needed. My voice was scratchy and hoarse. I might have to find some honey in this house.   
“Just the night. It’s about 10 am right now. We don’t have a lot of details about what happened last night. We think it might be,” he paused, hesitating on the words.   
“Yeah, that was my initial reaction.”   
“There’s more. Only Lia and Tasker came back. Kessa’s missing.”  
We let those two words hang in the air. 

Missing. 

Not again.   
Not again.  
Not again. 

She has to be back. She’s come back for me. To hurt me even more. No. Nononononono.   
I had to go. I must go somewhere. I looked around the room, seeing if there was anything of personal value in there. Of course there wasn’t. I had few sentimental items, but that is bound to happen when you’d like to do nothing more than forget the past.   
This was not good. This was very not good.   
The weight on my chest was back, pressing down, like an elephant sitting on me. Each breath took effort. Breathing shouldn’t be like this.   
My thoughts were running away with me, and my body was shutting down. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. The world once again slipped out from under me. 

Opening my eyes, the world slipped into focus. I had just woken up here.   
Foster was sitting on the floor next to me, monitoring me. I could see concern in his eyes. I never thought I’d see that. I had also never noticed the color of his eyes. To be honest, I had never bothered to give him the time of day, but they were lovely, with a ring of green surrounding light brown. It was stunning against his tanned skin.   
“Your eyes have green in them.”  
“They do. Are you okay?”  
“No.” My voice sounded so small, like a child.   
I was a child. I was technically an adult these days, but I didn’t feel like it. I would probably never feel like it. There would always be a part of me hoping for a family, a true family. The one I was born into was not one anyone wanted to be a part of. It had only been six months since my mother tried to kill me. I suppose she did kill me, in a sense. Unbeknownst to everyone, I could heal myself. She thought I was dead, and my housemates covered it up, having a funeral and everything.   
So everyone thought I was dead. My fear of being discovered alive was enough to keep me reclusive. I let the others go out and take care of things. I hoped none of them noticed that I never left. I doubted it, but they didn’t bring it up.   
“It has to be her.” Foster knew which “her” I would be referring to. We all saw her power. We all knew what damage she could inflict to us all.   
As calmly as he could, “That’s why Tasker is out there. She’s our canary. And we all know your mom now. That’s good for Tasker.”   
“What do we do until Tasker returns?”  
“We have to wait.”  
“I don’t like waiting.”  
“Trust me, it’s not a strength for me,” he paused, “We could do a thing I used to do with Carrie. When everything was dark and scary, we share a thought for a thought.”   
“I miss her.”  
“I do too.”  
I wasn’t sure what other thoughts I could share. Everything about my life Foster knew, or is muddled with my memories of my mother.   
Foster, thankfully, saved me, “I hate eggs. I have no idea why. I just really hate them.”  
“Then why are you always the one to make a big scramble for us?”  
“I can’t cook anything else,” he said sheepishly.   
“Have you seen me cook anything?”  
Foster contemplated all the meals we’d shared over the months. He’d come up with nothing. I didn’t know how to cook. I never learned. Carrie actually had to teach me how to do laundry. I’ve been a rather helpless adult. “That’s right, you never have. Don’t tell me that blows your mind.”  
“It does, just a little.”  
I wanted to laugh. Even just a chuckle was out of grasp for me, but I wanted it. That had to count for something. I wasn’t sure what to come up with as a tidbit about me. I never found myself to be interesting or amazing or special in any way. My great strength in life has been to survive. I tried to think of food information, or colors, anything.   
“I adore sheep.”  
“The animal? Goes baaaaaaa?”   
“That’s the one. I like that they always seem so happy, grow wool, and appear to be less trouble than goats.”  
“Fair enough. Maybe we can get a flock of sheep for the yard.”  
“You say that like everything is going to be just fine.”  
“Why wouldn’t it be? We can be pessimistic and think the worst will always happen, or we can hope for the best. I prefer hope. It’s one of the great lessons one of the greatest epic stories of our lives has taught me.”  
“And that is?”  
“Star Wars.”   
“Never saw it.”   
Wordlessly, he got up and left the room. I just watched him walk away from me. The door to the garage slammed shut. He must hate me. He talks about hope and then walks away. Okay, fine. I don’t need him. He can sleep on the couch tonight and forever, for all I care.   
After a few moments, I hear the garage door leading to the house open.   
“I had to grab this from my storage boxes. Since we have nothing better to do, Star Wars seems like a perfect afternoon plan.”   
I lost myself in the movies. It was a world where I could escape to, and didn’t have to be the hero, or victim, just an observer. There was enough intrigue and drama too help me block out the real world.   
Watching me get sucked in, Foster made popcorn and brought over drinks. As the dusk came over the world, a pizza arrived. I missed that he had even ordered it.   
Dropping the pizza on the coffee table, “It looks like we finally have something in common.”  
“Took us long enough,” I chuckled. “We definitely have the feel of the rebellion here. Though thankfully, we don’t have a Death Star, but I won’t let my mother know about that. I wouldn’t want her to get any ideas.”  
“You made a joke.”  
I cocked my head at him.   
“I’ve never heard anything but seriousness or mission plans from you. It’s nice, Adria.”   
“You’re better than I thought, too.” 

We watched the original trilogy that night, before retiring to bed. Somehow, I was exhausted, despite my sleeping for what felt like days. Foster followed me up the stairs, to our shared room. He was never one to stick with me, staying up past my self-imposed bedtime.


End file.
